The Wild

Escape, into the wild.
Free to white expanse.
Pine trees and crisp blue skies
shine in my child eyes.

Each out-breath lingers,
the ghosts of words.
Each motion forgotten.
Each cry unheard.

Taste harsh fruits,
and thick green stems.
Hard brown gravel peppered with frost.
Blue shadows dart
away from the sun.
Each crunching step confirms I'm lost.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.